Smite is Right
by Siara Elen
Summary: How will they get out of this one, boys and girls? Short tag to 6.22, The Man Who Knew Too Much. Bow down or die, those were the options. But Dean Winchester didn't take kindly to being threatened, and he'd never taken an order from anyone but his Dad...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own 'em; not making any money.**

**A/N: Tag to 6.22, The Man Who Knew Too Much. Cas has gone off the deep end, Sam's wall has fallen and Dean is pissed.**

**Smite is Right**

"...So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord," Cas paused and his eyes were cold and eerily empty, "Or I shall destroy you."

Dean was reminded of nothing so much as Father Gregory, a good man who'd died violently and, as a spirit convinced he was an angel, incited acts of evil because he just couldn't tell the difference anymore. Well, Cas was now countless magnitudes stronger than Gregory had been, and clearly the same magnitudes crazier, but the words Father Reynolds had spoken then fit just the same now.

"Cas, you're an angel. A souped up one clearly, but you're still an angel and an angel cannot be God."

"You still doubt me? The sword did not work."

"All those souls inside you? People, monsters, alphas? Who knows what kind of juice you got flowing in you right now. Maybe some of them were gods. Doesn't make you one."

"You will bow down Dean."

"Dean..." Sam's voice was a warning and a plea, but Dean could see how hard it was for him to stay on his feet, and that was his priority right now, the same as it had always been. Take care of Sammy. And as far as this messed up situation went? Dean had just about had it.

"And what kind of God are you gonna be, Cas? You said a better one. Is this better? You threaten your friends, the ones who've fought at your side? You kill us if we won't worship you? You've got a screwed up world out there. A screwed up heaven, and all you can think about is petty revenge. You've got people and angels to punish and you're gonna do it with a smile on your face."

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but Dean ploughed over him, on a roll.

"What are you gonna have your prophets write? The last one said in the beginning was the word and the word was God and then he created the universe. What's your story, huh? Near the end an angel made a deal with a demon, stole the blood of a virgin, swallowed a whole mess of souls didn't belong to him and then killed all his friends? Who's gonna worship that?"

I've met quite a few gods in my time Cas. Frankly I wasn't impressed. And so far you're not shaping up any better. Those other gods, we killed the ones we needed to. You wanna try to kill us? We'll try to kill you right back."

"You will-" Cas's voice had changed. Dean heard petulance and his gut twisted in anger.

"No Cas. I got a brother barely standing to take care of and I got a car to fix. I've got more important things to worry about than you. We're leaving." He moved to Sam's side, and Cas followed him with his eyes, but didn't move otherwise. Dean pulled Sam's arm over his shoulder, steadying him and softened his voice, "Ok, Sammy, let's get you some rest."

"Dean," Cas was angry now, but Dean could match that and then some. Cas had done this to Sam, deliberately, to take them out of the fight. That was still something needed settling. But not now.

"You wanna be God? Go be God. Be like the last one and leave us the hell alone."

As they reached Bobby, he put his arm around Sam's waist on the other side, pulling his arm over his shoulder and they shuffled forward back towards the stairs.

Dean was braced for something to happen. In truth, he wasn't sure whether Cas would go ahead and smite them. If he did, he did, but he was damn sure he wouldn't bow down out of fear and he wasn't going to worship or even respect any god who hadn't given him a damn good reason.

Cas wasn't going to listen to reason right now. Maybe never again. Dean would help him if he asked for it, but he wasn't holding his breath. Cas had crossed some serious lines to get here, and he wasn't coming back easy.

But Dean didn't give up on friends, on family. Cas may have lived for millions of years, time out of mind, but he was still a child, and Dean knew from raising Sammy that sometimes the best thing to do was to ignore the bad behaviour and reward the good. Dean had time to wait this out. Not a lot of time in angel terms, but some years at least, if he didn't get his guts ripped out by the next fugly down the road.

Eventually Sammy had come back, all of him, and if not in one piece, at least willing to try. He had to hope Cas would too.

But for now, Dean put him out of his mind. Sammy was leaning pretty heavily on him and Bobby. The wall was down, solutions were thin on the ground and he was out of favours to call in.

Death, Cas, Crowley, everyone had said without that wall, Sam would be damaged beyond repair, his soul so twisted and broken, he'd be a vegetable, but what the hell did they know about what he and Sam had survived? Sam was here, had held himself together to come fight at his brother's side and Dean had faith.

Not in gods or angels or any of that bullcrap. He had faith in Sam again, hard won faith, tempered by time and experience and so much pain that he knew the exact size, shape and feel of it.

Sam would tough this one out. Not alone though. He'd have his family with him.

**The beginning...**

**A/N2: I'm like a child too – reviews are rewards! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews for chapter one. I'd planned it just as a one shot; my take on how they might get from the last episode of season 6 to the first of season 7, but I had some comments asking for the next part, so I thought, why not? **

**I decided to continue it from Sam's POV. Just so you know, I'm not a Cas fan, never have been, I think he's self-righteous and untrustworthy and other less polite things too. So if you are a Cas-girl, you might want to look away now, because this story isn't very flattering.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not making any money from writing this, and nor do I plan to. **

**Smite is Right: Chapter 2**

He could see it in the corner of his eye and if he looked directly at it he'd fall forever and burn forever. If he could just stay in the here and now he'd be ok. He just needed to focus on Dean and Bobby, their arms around him, keeping him on his feet, keeping him here, present.

Just don't look at it.

But thinking about the here and now wasn't so great either. Because the here and now was Castiel who thought he was God. Whether he was or not, and Dean seemed to think not, didn't really matter, because he certainly had the juice to kill them all without moving a muscle.

And Sam had just stabbed the guy in the back, so he was probably first. Maybe his dead body was just the head start Dean and Bobby needed. That'd be an ok way to die.

Or maybe Dean was first for casting aspersions on Cas's godliness. Well, Sam wasn't using Dean's dead body as a head start, not for anything and certainly not after all the stuff he still needed to make up for, even if Dean didn't think that was necessary. Especially because of that.

Everyone, including the soulless version of himself had told Dean not to bring his soul back out of hell, that it would be broken, flayed, beyond saving, but of course Dean hadn't listened, of course he hadn't, because that description was exactly why he had to do it.

Sam's body might've been alive; his mind might've been residing in it, but the most important part of him, the soul, the part that Sam too understood as being what made him _Sam_; that had still been in hell, being tortured and damaged more and more each day and Dean couldn't let that go.

As far as Dean had been concerned, Sam wasn't back. Sam was still in hell.

Even if there was no chance of fixing him back the way he was, Sam knew that Dean would have wanted to at least make it so that no more damage was inflicted.

Even now, knowing that hell was just at the edge of his perception, trying to pull him back, Sam understood that Dean had been right. He knew because at the edge of his mind he could hear himself screaming from hell, and it was a scream for help, for deliverance, for his brother to come and save him.

And even after however many years, a hundred, a hundred and fifty, he could still hear the certainty in that scream. No matter how long it took, Sam's soul had known Dean would find him and make the pain stop.

Everyone had said he wouldn't recover but Sam knew there was hope because even though the pain was there, the fire and the screaming, part of his flayed – as they insisted on calling it – soul was still intact. He knew this because when he'd been trapped inside his own head, when he'd remembered everything, the only thing he'd been able to think of was getting to Dean and either making sure he was ok or standing with him as he faced an unwinnable fight.

Which brought him back to where he was right now. Would be killer of an angel and/or god.

They walked out, or at least Dean and Bobby walked; Sam staggered out, leaning heavily on them.

Dean had dared Cas to reveal himself as a god as douchey as all the other gods they'd ever met and Sam couldn't believe Cas would live down to that. Cas was arrogant enough to want to prove Dean wrong, and because, god or mega-angel or whatever he was, Cas was obviously still looking for Dean's approval, even if it was in a totally screwed up way.

Sam recognised the signs. He'd gone through the exact same thing when he'd been trying to convince Dean of the wisdom of drinking demon blood and working with Ruby.

Sam could tell Dean and Bobby were both hurt from the way they were holding themselves, but he couldn't take any more of his weight; he was barely holding his head up.

Getting up the stairs was tough. They were narrow and only two of them could stand side by side. Bobby relinquished his hold and followed them, a hand on Sam's back, trying to help Dean support him, but Dean was mostly carrying him and Sam could feel that his brother was rigid with pain and holding his breath to keep from showing it.

Sam's heart pounded with anger for Cas. Had he hurt them? Or had he allowed it to happen? Whatever, Sam felt it was Cas's fault because he had refused to just work with them.

Sam had tried to trust Cas, he really had. When they'd all stood in that room and pledged support for Cas, Sam had done it too. For Dean more than for Cas, because he wanted Dean to know that after everything that had come between them he was in Dean's corner, was still his little brother.

But Cas had been lying all along.

Shuffling along, trying to distract himself from the pain, Sam thought back over the last few years.

Cas had been so cold with him at the start and he remembered his disappointment when he'd finally met an honest to God angel, and been rejected. He guessed he could forgive that, because Cas didn't know him and didn't understand that he was trying to act for the best, even if it hadn't worked out that way. But Sam figured that the distance had given him more perspective on Cas than Dean had.

Sam knew Cas had been the one that let him out of the panic room when he'd been totally strung out from demon blood withdrawal. There wasn't anyone else who could have, or more importantly, would have. He didn't blame Cas for that exactly. Sam was a big boy, and he'd made his own mistakes. He just wished Cas had been up front about it, especially with Dean.

Cas had done a lot of crappy things. Emotionally blackmailing Dean into torturing Alistair for one. Dean had been hanging on by a thread and that had almost broken him, again. Sam didn't think he'd ever forgive Cas for that.

And when Dean had wanted to give in and say yes to Michael, Cas had beaten the crap out of him. Sam knew he and Dean didn't have a blemish free record when it came to pounding on each other in moments of frustration or anger, but for the most part they were fairly evenly matched. Cas could've just put Dean to sleep and brought him home. But, no, he'd gone all self righteous and used his angel strength to hurt Dean when he couldn't defend himself, and when he was already so beaten down by the whole situation.

How come Dean was the only one who didn't get to have a moment of doubt? Dean had accepted that beating, forgiven Cas, and continued thinking of him as a friend, but Sam had filed it away.

And Cas had been the one to bring Sam back from hell, minus a soul, and he'd lied about it, over and over. Cas and Bobby, and he sure wanted to have a word with Bobby about it, had let Dean think Sam was dead for a whole year. He understood why his soulless doppelganger had done it; Robo-Sam just hadn't cared about Dean and his grief. But Cas and Bobby? They knew what Sam meant to Dean. The cruelty of it took his breath away.

Not to mention if they'd just told Dean right away, maybe he'd have found a way to get Sam's soul back before it was this broken, flayed thing they were all so scared of.

And this time, instead of putting him, Bobby and Dean to sleep while he went off to carry out his plan, he'd pulled down Sam's wall. Cas had opened Sam up to the hell his soul had experienced, knowing exactly what it would do to him. Why had he done that? Why had he wanted to hurt Sam like that? He'd said he'd put the wall back up afterwards, but there was no reason to do it in the first place. Just like that beating he'd given Dean, there was no reason for it. It was just cruel.

Yes, he couldn't deny Cas had saved their lives many times. But then he'd also put them in danger so many times, and for no reason. All this year. All the times they'd gone into battle, it had been for nothing. Everything they'd tried to do to stop Crowley, Cas had been working against them.

Those virgin killing dragons. Who had they been working for when they opened Purgatory? Had Cas brought Eve into the world? All these fights, all these losses. Was Cas the reason Rufus was dead, and Samuel and all the Campbells?

Sam tried to think it all through. What had happened because Cas had made it happen? What had happened because Cas had lied? What would've happened anyway? It was impossible to know. The depth of this betrayal was devastating. And he'd never really been close to Cas. How must Dean be feeling right now?

What Sam had figured out over the past few years was that you could trust Cas to save your life, you just couldn't trust him to share your agenda, and if your agenda diverged from his, you could trust him not only to follow his own, but to be wicked sneaky about it.

He guessed he and Cas had something in common. The only difference was, Cas was a much more convincing liar.

It made Sam wonder what Cas had been doing up in heaven all year, fighting this war of his. Had Cas ever tried to win anyone over, persuade them to follow him rather than Raphael, or had he just beaten and tricked and lied his way through? Had he just slaughtered as many enemy angels as he could?

Dean was right to ask Cas what sort of god he was aiming to be, but Sam was pretty sure he wasn't one they'd ever want to follow. The Gospel of Cas? Dean was right, it was unimpressive.

They made it out of the building without the threatened smiting, and Sam wondered what would be Cas's next move. Would he go ahead and hand out all the punishments he'd promised? Or would he actually try to be a god? Try to start fixing things?

Sam and Dean had been to see that movie _Gladiator_ years before and Sam realised that Cas reminded him of Commodus, who'd wanted power so badly that he'd killed anyone that threatened it; had jealously guarded it, even though he hadn't known what to do with it.

And what were they going to do now? Were they going to have to look for a way to kill Cas? They couldn't burn his tree; he didn't have one. They couldn't stab him with evergreen; he wasn't the Anti-Claus.

Was there still something in Cas that could be reasoned with? Would Dean find a way to reach him? Dean could be pretty persuasive. Sam should know. It had taken a long time, but Sam had finally found his way back to his brother's side, where he should have stayed all along.

He was being lowered to the ground and he looked round. They were outside in the shelter of some trees. It was still dark and damp and just about as miserable as you'd expect.

"What's going on?" He managed.

"Bobby's going to boost us a car," Dean's voice was raspy. There was another reason for Sam to hold on and not give into the fire licking away at the edge of his consciousness. He had to make sure Dean took care of whatever injuries he was suffering.

"Boost a car?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm not carrying you all the way back to Bobby's place."

"Right, the Impala... Oh, man I'm sorry." Sam's voice was pretty raspy too.

Dean snorted, "Sammy, the Impala's the last thing I'm worried about now."

"You said you had a car to fix," He remembered that being one of the reasons Dean didn't have time to worry about Cas. The flames were burning his flesh, the pain building. He listened for Dean's voice, trying to block out the screams.

"I said I had a brother to fix too. That's more important. You know that."

"Yeah, I know that." Sam leaned into Dean's body, gratefully accepting all the comfort Dean was offering.

"But you're gonna fix her too right?" Sam didn't want to lose the Impala any more than he knew Dean did. That car had saved them so many times. She was the only home they'd ever had. Not that he ever told Dean that.

"Sure. But we're gonna make sure you're ok first."

"It's ok, Sammy, it's gonna be ok." The screams were loud, but Dean's voice, soft and low, was much louder. The pain was strong, but Dean's arm around him, supporting him, that was stronger.

They'd find a way to make all this right, and Sam could hold on, as long as he had Dean.

**The end.**

**Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews for the previous chapters. I love reviews! I thought it was finished there with Dean and Sam, but I kept thinking about it and I decided there were two more POVs I wanted to show, so here they are, in short order. Chapter 3 is Bobby's. Chapter 4 is a certain angel with and over inflated view of himself.**

* * *

><p><strong>Smite is Right - Chapter 3<strong>

Well here we are again. It never ceases to amaze me how hard we fight just to end up back where we started, or worse. Much worse this time.

Castiel always was a shaky ally, but the gall of the guy is breathtaking. He actually thinks we owe him for all the times he saved us, as though he wasn't the one put us in need of saving in the first place. Pretty much every damn time. Said we should follow his plan for once, like he hasn't spent every day since we met him jerking us around like friggin' puppets, first on Zachariah's say so, then for his own reasons.

Hard guy to trust.

Then I watched Ellie die, and Sam disappear inside himself as the wall came down, and whatever trust I'd grudgingly cobbled together? Gladly gave it up. Don't owe the guy a thing. Not even the time of day.

And now the guy thinks he's God? What a crock. Never been a big believer myself, 'specially since Karen.

Can't deny the guy's got power though. Or that he's willing to use it.

Gotta wonder what Dean's gonna do next. He always takes it hard when one of us lets him down. Never forget the look on his face when he realised I'd known all along Sam was back from hell. Never wanna see that look on his face again, especially not directed at me.

I know sometimes we all expect too much from Dean. We expect him to accept us in all our weakness but we find it impossible to accept it from him. I had to remind myself when he told me I ain't his father that just a few weeks before I'd pointed my shotgun at those boys and told 'em to leave just like I did their daddy. Unlike John, they ignored me. They stuck by me and saved my life. I'm pretty sure it was Dean made that decision.

Castiel's betrayed every shred of trust any of us put in him. Put us in danger, made us look like fools all this time, had Crowley send the boys after all those alphas for him 'cos he didn't have the sack to tell us what he was up to from the start. He did all that, killed Ellie, opened Sam's mind to hell and still expected us to bow down.

Wanted Dean to approve of him, worship him. Because me and Sam? I don't think Castiel much cared if we kneeled in that room. I get the feeling it was Dean he was talking to.

He had that right at least. Dean's the one you need to win over if you want us to follow. Sam might have all kinds of power in him and I might be the father figure, but Dean's the leader. He's the one signs off on the plans.

I don't think any of us has much of a taste for worship lately. But Dean especially had that tapped out of him by his dad with the buttload of crap John laid on him before he waltzed off into the wide blue yonder like the selfish bastard he always was.

So I don't know whether Castiel's crazy or stupid. Don't know whether he thinks Dean's loyalty's gonna extend past all this or if he thinks he sees weakness and Dean'll kneel out of fear. I'm not gonna bet on the former 'cos I've seen that boy forgive some unforgiveable stuff, but the latter? Dean's a lot of things, but weak ain't never been one of 'em.

And worship? Angel better get ready for heartbreak cos it ain't gonna happen.

Sam managed to drive the car he took from my yard into a tree. Amazing he didn't do that trying to drive out of my yard, state he was in. I had to go a little further to find one that would take us back home.

Damn Castiel and Crowley for not needing cars. Would've been some satisfaction to boosting one of theirs, though I'd probably have wasted precious time trying to decide which of them to rip off most.

Still glad to be walkin' again, but boy, I could've done without it tonight, aching like I aged 20 years in the past day. And I know how that feels. Don't get up from these hits as fast as I used to. Damn near fell on my ass trying to help Dean get Sam up those stairs.

Got back to the boys with the car to find Sam asleep in his brother's arms, just like I saw him so many times when they were kids. You tell anyone I told you it brought a tear to my eye and you'll be walking funny the rest of your life.

Sam's sleeping upstairs now and Dean's watching over him and pretending he ain't hurting from all this – body and soul. Dean's convinced Sam's just sleeping, nothing worse, and boy I hope he's right. He was right about bringing Sam's soul back, though I gotta admit I had my doubts at the time.

But it's hard to hold doubts in the face of Dean's certainty. And Sam these past few months? I hadn't realised how much I'd missed him 'til we got him back. He's more like he used to be, like he was before Dean went to hell and we made hell on earth for ourselves in our grief.

Sam without a soul was scary as hell, and I wondered if I'd ever forgive him trying to kill me, but lord help me, like you can't hold on to doubt around Dean, you can't hold on to bitterness around a penitent Sam. And since he got his soul back the poor boy's doing penance for his evil twin and he's still as earnest as ever. But it's more than that. He's less jaded. Sweeter somehow.

I want him to get through this almost as much as Dean does. Dean's sure Sam's strong enough for this. Sure he's gonna get up and stand in the fight by his brother's side again. And like I said about doubts? I'm finding it hard not to believe the same damn thing.

So, here I am, hitting the books as usual. Trying to figure out how to take on a guy who thinks he's God. I'm laying some hope on a God needing believers to become such. Like the woods gods and minor deities us hunters run across from time to time. It ain't all about what they're packin' to start with; it's the worship gives 'em the firepower.

We've just gotta figure out how to defuse this one before he gets anyone beefing him up on that kinda juice too.

At least we've got one thing on our side. Castiel is a follower, not a leader. He don't know what to do with all this power and he don't know how to build loyalty 'cept in someone like Dean who looks for that kind of bond and overlooks a hell of a lot of crap to keep in. Castiel can't even build loyalty among his own kind from what I've been hearing.

He's gonna find out pretty soon that not wanting Raphael to rule is not the same as wanting Castiel to do it.

Working on two plans actually. The one where we kill him and the one where we drain him and hope he goes back to normal. Me and Sam thinks the first one's Plan A. Guess who thinks it's Plan B.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ...and here we are with Castiel's POV. **

* * *

><p><strong>Smite is Right - Chapter 4<strong>

"Guys...? Hello...?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. That's all folks!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Ok, there was another character that made it out of the fight and suddenly he's talking to me too. Chapter five: Crowley.**

**This one is inspired by ccase13's comment on chapter 4 about the 50,000 loaner souls from hell and how they had been twisting Castiel up ever since. So thank you again!**

**Smite is Right – Chapter 5**

You've gotta love Cas. It's cute really that he thinks he's won. Heartwarming. It's why I approached him in the first place.

Cas is the kind of guy who'll spend a thousand years observing a water molecule and never realise it's part of an ocean.

See, me? I'm a big picture kind of guy.

You don't go from craven excuse for a human, to meat on the torture rack, to stunt demon #4, to crossroads demon, to head of all crossroads demons, to the King of all Bloody Hell without seeing the bigger picture, without having a clear understanding of what the pieces are and who's moving them.

Cas doesn't get it. All he was focused on was stopping Raphael from booting up apocalypse 2.0. That's small potatoes.

Comes from living in heaven and looking down. Gives you a somewhat restricted view of the situation. Cas, Raphael, Michael? They're mean-spirited, they're small. They lack imagination.

More importantly, they're so blinkered by their petty fist fights, they can't see what you're doing just out of shot.

See, like Oscar Wilde said about gutters and stars, I've lived down in hell so I know all about looking up. I'm the poster demon for aiming high.

Angels always assumed there was someone at the top that cared. They believed in good and evil. Sorry, they believed in _Good_ and _Evil_. They believed the hype. Lately they've been losing comrades to wacky plans that skirt breathtakingly close to the boundaries of virtue, not to mention good sense, and then lurch right over the edge of the cliff like lemmings. And questions are being asked that middle management can't answer. Obvious outcome? Everyone's angry.

Say what you want about God, but the guy has the wisdom that Castiel and those others never will. He's like Katherine Hepburn in that way. Or was it Disraeli? Never complain, never explain. And a sense of humour. Don't try and tell me the big guy's not funny as Hell.

The new lot? They wouldn't have the charm or the flair to pull this off.

So suddenly any jumped up angel can take on heaven? Take on God? Raphael can do it, Castiel can do it? Why not one of the others? Why not all the others.

Politics that'll make the House of Representatives look civilised.

Whereas Hell's always been driven by ambition. We understand it, we thrive on it, we know how to make deals and who to collaborate with, who to stab in the back. Hell is thirst for power more than a thirst for blood. Blood is just the currency. It's what you drink on a Saturday night.

Apocalypse schmapocalypse, you ask me. Title fight between Lucifer and Michael? Life goes on. Souls don't die and their ultimate destination isn't as fixed as those narrow-minded angels like to think.

So Cas thinks he's got ultimate power now. Swallowed Purgatory and thinks he's controlling those souls lighting him up like the Human Torch. Thinks they're just formless energy that he can beam at anyone he likes.

Idiot.

Never was one for self-examination, Castiel. He's all about what everyone else is doing wrong. He's ripe for it. Conditioned to follow orders since time immemorial. He might contain those souls, but some of them have wills much stronger than his. Each of those souls is working inside him, finding the cracks, exerting influence and he doesn't see it, he'll never see it.

It's already started. Castiel's bait and switch? Dog's blood? Good guys don't sacrifice dogs. Virgins? Maybe, in a pinch, but not dogs. Anyone'll tell you that.

His only hope is those three plaid shirt stooges, but he's already screwed them over a thousand times, lied, made them dance like beautiful, brainless finger puppets. Well the two Winchester boys anyway. Singer's not beautiful... Good kisser though... But, I digress.

The three of them are all that stand between him and disappearing even further up his own jacksie. Now he'll be cutting them off, paranoid, jealous for his power. He needs them to save him, and they could do it, you know. They might be knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing, rotgut swilling hicks, but only a fool underestimates them. A dead fool.

But Castiel won't be able to see that. He and his fellow angels stood and watched the history of the world play out but this trench-coated cretin can't see a Cult of Personality forming right under...sorry, right behind his nose. So, he'll drive them away with his lust for power and his irrational need for validation and then punish them for not loving him enough, and God I hope I'm there to see that.

And those souls, they're jockeying for position inside him. They'll form their own hierarchy and before he knows what's hit him, one of them'll be running the show.

And you know what? A pretty decent majority of them work for me.

**Well, I thought each of these chapters was the last, and then it turned out I had more up my sleeve, so while I think I'm done now, I'm not saying anything definitive. Who knows who might start talking next?**

**Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think...**


End file.
